


You'll Be On My Mind, You'll Be On Your Side

by MrMissMrsRandom



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: I wrote this buzzed the night before Valentines Day, M/M, Nobody is happy in this honestly, Oral Sex, Sailane One Night Stand, Set before Chapter 4, Sigurd misses Deirdre and Lewyn knows this, Technically Friends with Benefits, pretty much pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 12:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17808041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMissMrsRandom/pseuds/MrMissMrsRandom
Summary: Lewyn feels like a stranger in his homeland, while Sigurd's sense of home falls apart.





	You'll Be On My Mind, You'll Be On Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> If you could tell by the title, I wrote this listening to "Weight of Love" by The Black Keys, if you want a musical accompaniment. Best wishes once more to Bills, who wanted Lewyn smut. So I had to make it sad.

Erinys returned late to Sailane from the capital that night, bringing tidings that his mother knew of their arrival, and would be traveling in the coming weeks when she had the chance. Lewyn’s uncles were growing more and more anxious to overstep boundaries, and she was afraid that leaving the capital unattended right now could spark an open rebellion. Erinys brought back a letter for Sigurd. Lewyn received none, as he expected. After all, he was the runaway prince, now brought back not by his own volition, but in the company of an army that had needed sanctuary. He remained a stranger in his homeland. A soldier for another cause that he wasn't sure actually existed anymore. 

“I’ll take it to him,” Lewyn replied, and snatched the letter from Erinys’s fingers.

Erinys looked windblown, tired, and sad, and it made Lewyn even more irritated. She got what she wanted: they were back home, and what point had it served? “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“He’ll be up anyway, ever since Deirdre disappeared he’s had problems sleeping,” Lewyn waved back at her from behind. “...Go and see Lachesis, I’m sure she’s up complaining about her ankles swelling or something. You two can while the hours away.”

“Prince Lewyn,” Erinys voice was still soft, but there was a hint of steel hidden beneath. He stopped and turned back. “...I’m sorry. I’m sure her Grace will… will come around.”

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. “...Yeah. Night, Erinys.”

If she said anything else, he didn’t hear it. The winds beating against the castle outside howled too much, as he made his way to the makeshift bedroom and study Annand offered Sigurd when she and her squadron guided them from their ship from Augustria. He hadn’t been back to Sailane since he was a child, but it had been his father’s room when they took vacations near the coast for a summer retreat. He decided not to think much more about that.

Faint candlelight seeped from under the door, so he knocked. He waited for longer than it should have taken, but with Sigurd, he had come to realize his usual short rope for foolishness was exceptionally long, especially when the world found new ways to shove the once proud holy knight down into the dirt.

Eventually, the door opened, showing him half-dressed, his feet bare on the floor. Lewyn immediately wanted to chastise him for not wearing socks but is instead drawn up to his face. Even in the flickering candlelight, the grief obvious on his face, he is handsome beyond words.

“Sorry, for not answering sooner,” Sigurd replied.

“Seliph keeping you up?” Lewyn attempted to joke.

“Edain and Ethlyn are watching over him with the other children in the nursery. It’s better for him; he’s able to nurse there.” Sigurd replied simply, before stepping aside. “Apologies, please come in.”

“You’re not going to ask why I’m here, in the middle of the night?” Lewyn hates how suggestive his tone sounds, almost as much as he hates how it doesn’t seem to faze Sigurd at all. He sighs, handing the letter over as he passes in. He deliberately doesn’t on a spare chair by the study near the fireplace, and instead flops onto the bed to wrap himself in some of the thick, insulating fur blankets piled high on the bed. Sigurd takes the letter and the candle, sitting on the desk as he opens the message and reads over the pages. There are at least three, maybe four. “My mother welcoming you to our humble home, I suppose.”

“It’s due to her generosity that we’re here and not all sharing a cell,” Sigurd replied, trying to make it sound like a joke, but he didn’t get it quite right. He took his sweet time reading it over, and at some parts, the corner of his eye looked back at him. Lewyn smoothed his hand up and down against the fur and looked back at the bed. It was far too big for a single person: the arrangement had been made assuming Sigurd’s lady wife would be here. That brought another strange twist to his stomach. The pair in marital bliss, in this room. There would be no way he could have intruded like this if she was. He was worried about Deirdre: she was a sweet woman, and he didn’t want to worry about what might have happened, but he also didn’t know how far her sweetness would extend if she knew about the designs he had on her knightly husband.

Once finished, Sigurd set the pages aside, leaning against the seat.

“So,” Lewyn offered.

“... Queen Rahna is very generous to us. She is going to petition King Azmur of our innocence. I have faith in that.”

“But that’s not all.”

“...” Sigurd ran a hand through his hair, and Lewyn felt a growing urge to do the same. “...She said that she hopes I’m a good influence on you.”

Oh, well, that was that. She would tell everyone around Lewyn to handle him, but couldn’t find the time to say anything to his face? It was… stupid. And he hates how much it hurts, hearing it. But it’s not enough for him to stop him.

“...Get into bed. If you stay dressed like you are not bundled up, your toes will have to be amputated.”

Sigurd put on a ghost of his past dazzling smile, but obeyed, walking over and climbing into bed, moving under the covers, before Lewyn stopped him, taking hold of his ankle.

“Lewyn?”

“Let me warm these up first. As I said, extremities are the first to go.”

There was a pause, and Lewyn thought Sigurd would object, but he nods. “You’re the expert.”

At this, it was the first time all night that he smiled. “That I am.”

He spent a few minutes massaging his feet, getting circulation back into them, before his hands drifted over Sigurd’s callused and rough right hand, which he also rubbed to regain some warmth. Despite being smaller around the shoulders, his body kept warm much better than he did. Lewyn spent what time he wasn’t looking at Sigurd's hands to look at his face, how even in the candlelight he could catch distinct changes to his skin tone. Good.

He took his left hand and began massage, but lifted his hand to his lips, kissing his fingers, the front of his nose trailing down the fine lines on his palm to his wrist. The previous motions must have made him too relaxed because his mouth was on the upper part of his forearm before he pulled away. Lewyn looked up at him, his gaze steady as Sigurd floundered. Of course, he did, he was a faithful husband.

“Lewyn I… I can’t.”

“That’s right; you can’t. So I will for you.”

“... You don’t have to-”

“Sigurd, I’m not doing this for you, let’s make this clear.” He leaned forward, his hand moving down and trailing up Sigurd's thigh. “So if you’re not going to go with the flow, then I’ll leave.”

Sigurd was silent for a moment, and Lewyn removed his hand and began to slip off the bed, before those callused fingers caught his wrist.

“...Please, stay.”

Well, now he understood.

He liked Sigurd, as a person. Even with his flaws, he liked him. Sigurd liked everybody, so it was safe to say he liked Lewyn too. It was only here, though, in a bed that was once his parents’ and now was not, in a cold castle where both were exiles, that this could happen, so Lewyn would take what he got. As a soldier boy, Lewyn wanted to assume Sigurd had some experience pleasuring himself with a man, but his movements removing Lewyn’s tunic was clumsy enough to be charming but also let Lewyn know save for probably the holy priest’s position with his lady wife Sigurd knew nothing. That was fine, he could work out his anger into something productive, as he moved those callused fingers against his bare skin while removing his hat and tossing the wrappings to the floor, letting his long hair fall down his back.

Sigurd, thankfully, took the initiative and wrapped a hand against the back of his head to angle him down for a kiss. His lips were chapped, but they were warm, and the inside of his mouth was even more so. He wanted to stick more than his tongue in it, but he was sure if he suggested that, he would blush and avert his gaze like some pure maiden: a blessing and a curse.

It felt good, sliding his body against another person, it had been so long he did this. It was probably long for Sigurd, too. Deirdre had just recently given birth, after all.

Sigurd did something exceptional with his mouth against Lewyn’s neck, and he decided to stop thinking and start fully embracing what he wanted: to _feel_.

With Sigurd’s hands braced along his upper thighs, gripping tightly, Lewyn sucked along the outer shell of his ear, whispering nonsense words and groans, wrapping his hands around both their cocks and rutting against him. He liked hearing Sigurd moan low and desperate, hips bucking up to meeting his strokes that it would have sent him off the bed if his hands weren’t holding him in place. He was getting bigger, leaking spent faster than Lewyn was. Instead of slowing down, that encouraged Lewyn to rub faster, his nonsense words now forming lyrics and melodies.

_“You feel so hot in my hand. I wonder if it’d feel the same between my thighs, in my mouth, fucking into me…”_

“Lewyn,” Sigurd grunted, his voice too rough but too soft to tell what he meant saying his name if it was to beg or to warn because he came soon after. Lewyn had the presence of mind, despite still being fully hard, to wipe it on Sigurd’s top still left on the bed and not the hard to wash furs.

Lewyn was about to move down to finish himself off when his back was shoved against the bed; his legs maneuvered into the air. “Sigurd, what the-?!”  
  
Sigurd’s nice, wet and warm mouth covered the head of his weeping cock, and then Lewyn couldn’t find it in him to do much but yell obscenities and moan. His hands burrowed into Sigurd's thick hair like he had wanted to do as soon as he walked through the bedroom door, his heel digging into his back to urge him further. His lack of technique was made up for in enthusiasm and knowledge only to use his lips and tongue with no teeth.

He came nearly screaming from it, not caring who the fuck heard. Soon after, his legs slack around Sigurd’s shoulders, middle bent at an awkward angle. Strangely for him after getting off, Lewyn’s hands in Sigurd’s hair turned gentle, as the man continued to kiss and suck around his thighs. He had even swallowed it without complaint. Truly, a gentleman. Lewyn felt… almost guilty, using him like this. But then again, Sigurd was using him, too. He was just much more kind about it.

“...Hey, it's not going up again.” His voice sounded odd to his ears: too soft, too indulgent.

“...I just want to be close, for a bit.”

Lewyn blinked, before tugging at his hair, so Sigurd faced him and not his crotch. “We can be in a more comfortable way.”

So Sigurd let him slip from his grasp to guide him under the covers, moving his body against Sigurd’s once more, their quickly cooling bodies protected from the chill.

“... Lewyn, I…”

“Don’t say anything,” Lewyn interrupted. Saying something would ruin the moment, and Lewyn just wanted to enjoy it. Let it be spoiled by something else, not each other. “Just hold me for the night. You wanted to be close, right?”

“...Yes.”

So Sigurd did what was asked, and Lewyn fell asleep with the happy dream that everything was fine, even when it wasn’t.


End file.
